Dan Go back to your room.
Lynette (angrily) Don’t you dare start ordering my daughter about, you –
Dan (suddenly very violently) Listen, Mandy, you can stop all that right now. Alright? You may have a posh voice and a smart flat but as far as we’re concerned you’re just another second-rate tom who opens her legs and uses it as a money box, so don’t come the stuck-up bitch with me, right? Now, we’ve been very pleasant with you up till now, very, very civil indeed. You’ve been lying to us through your crooked little teeth since the minute we walked in here and we have been patient with you, we’ve been restrained and understanding because of your kiddy here. But enough is enough, sweetheart. Now either you tell us what happened between you and this Leo Tyler or I’ll have Grace here handcuff you, frogmarch you down the station, bang you up in a cell and throw away the bloody key, alright?
Lynette is quite shaken by this. Silence.
Sorrel (quietly) This has nothing to do with my mother.
Dan What? You still here? I told you to go back to your room.
Sorrel This has nothing to do with her. That is my phone. She knows nothing about all –
Dan Grace, will you escort the young lady back to her room, please?
Grace (moving towards Sorrel) Come on, come with me, love.
Sorrel You touch me, I shall sue you for harassment and police brutality. This whole thing is my idea. I set it up on the internet, nobody else was involved. My mother did not know about it. Mandy was me. I did it all. I invited Leo round here. I did it to earn money. Only he suddenly died. Accidentally. And I had to get rid of him. That’s all. It was me.
They stare at her.
Lynette She’s talking nonsense.
Dan You dragged his body out of the bedroom, then, did you?
Sorrel Yes.
Dan Out on to that balcony there, did you?
Sorrel Right.
Dan And then – what? – you just tossed it over the rail?
Sorrel Yes. With difficulty.
Dan And you did that all on your own, did you? You say no one else was involved?
Sorrel does not reply.
Eh? Anyone else?
Sorrel (quietly) No one.
Grace What did you do with his clothes?
Sorrel What?
Grace How did you dispose of them?
Sorrel I took them to a charity shop.
Dan Which one?
Sorrel British Heart Foundation.
Pause.
Dan Well, it’s sort of fitting, anyway.
Grace We could check.
Dan (shakes his head) No point. Even if she’s telling the truth, some social worker’s probably wearing them by now. (to Sorrel) Listen, come here. Come on. Come over here. I’m not going to bite you. That’s it. Sit here.
Sorrel sits.
Now, listen to me. I’ve got a daughter, called Yvonne, about the same age as you. And I would dearly like to hope that in a similar situation to this, she’d behave the same as you. She’d stay loyal to her mum or myself and be prepared to stand by us. Even offer to take the blame. I’d like to hope she’d behave the same as you. But I very much doubt it. Because despite the fact that she could not have had two more doting, caring, loving parents than my wife and myself, Yvonne is an out-of-control teenage tearaway, who’s been in and out of the juvenile courts since she was ten years old. Whereas you, who have a mother with the morals of a large black rat and who quite clearly doesn’t give a toss for anyone, who’s quite happy to conduct her filthy, sordid business right in her own front room, she ends up with a daughter like you. Well, all I can say is, there is no bloody justice. Mandy, you do not deserve her, you do not deserve this caring, considerate, wonderful child! If it was in my power, I would have her taken away from you right now. (He moves to the door, suddenly weary.) What a world! What a world eh, Grace?
Grace ‘For that which befalleth the sons of men befalleth beasts; even one thing befalleth them; as the one dieth, so dieth the other; yea, they have all one breath; so that a man hath no pre-eminence above a beast; for all is vanity.’
Dan I knew you’d have a word for it, Grace. Come on then. Leave them to it. (He opens the front door. In the doorway) This case is still open. We will be watching you like a proverbial hawk, Mandy. You flash even so much as a kneecap anywhere on my patch again and I’ll have you. Alright? ’Evening.
He goes out. Grace makes to follow. She turns in the doorway.
Grace (to Sorrel) You may have fooled him but you don’t fool me, dear. Either of you. We’ll catch up with you, don’t worry. ‘So it shall be at the end of the world: the angels shall come forth, and sever the wicked from among the just, and shall cast them into the furnace of fire: there shall be wailing and gnashing of teeth.’ Merry Christmas.
She goes out, closing the door. Silence.
Lynette (at length, disbelievingly) Oh, Sorrel.
Sorrel I was only … (Slight pause.) I just was trying to … (Slight pause.) I only thought it might … (Slight pause.) You know.
Lynette (softly) Oh, Sorrel. What have you done to us?
A suddenly agitated ringing of the doorbell.
(wearily) Oh, God. Now what?
Sorrel I’ll get it.
Sorrel goes to the front door and opens it. Kelly is standing outside in a state of total panic.
Kelly (swiftly, in a total panic) Sorrel, there’s a police car outside. I’ve just seen it. The police are here. What are we going to do? They must have found out. They know what we did. They must – (She sees Lynette sitting there.) Oh. (realising) Oh. (to Sorrel) Oh, sorry. (to them both) Sorry.
They remain isolated in their own thoughts, as the lights fade to:
Blackout.
SCENE THREE
The same. Three weeks later. The Christmas tree has gone. Instead there are packing cases, most of them full, stacked in both the kitchen and the living room. The small items, previously dotted about, have now gone. Everything is packed up for an imminent move. Sorrel is wrapping some final glasses in newspaper. Kelly sits and watches her. They are both very subdued. Silence.
Kelly (at length) Where exactly is Doncaster, anyway?
Sorrel I don’t know. (indicating vaguely) Somewhere up there. Yorkshire.
Kelly That’s miles away.
Sorrel Yep.
Kelly I’ll never see you, will I?
Sorrel Probably not.
Kelly Yorkshire? They don’t even talk the same as us.
Sorrel Tell me about it.
Kelly Why did she want to go to Doncaster?
Sorrel She used to know some people who lived there.
Kelly Used to know them?
Sorrel They’re not there any more. They’ve retired to
Spain. Somewhere like that.
Kelly Then why does she want to live in Doncaster?
Sorrel (impatiently) I don’t know.
Kelly Sorry.
Pause.
Sorrel It’s near Doncaster.
Kelly Ah.
Sorrel Not even Doncaster.
Kelly I’ll never see you again, will I? Ever?
Sorrel Don’t know. Shouldn’t think so.
Kelly (in utter despair) Oh. (She clutches hold of Sorrel and clasps her tight.)
Sorrel (a little embarrassed) Kell, I’m trying to pack.
Kelly (muffled, still holding Sorrel) I love you.
Sorrel Yes. I love you too, Kell. (gently) Now let go. Come on. I have to do this.
Kelly (releasing her) Why do you need to go? Why?
Sorrel Kell, come on. How can we stay? Everybody’s heard. That policeman must have published it in the Police Gazette. Mum’s had this terrible row with the managing agents. Accusing her of turning the place into a brothel. Half the neighbours aren’t talking to us. Kids at school picking on me.
Kelly Only the wankers.
Sorrel Well, the school is full of wankers, then.
Pause.
Kelly My mum says I shouldn’
t talk to you.
Sorrel There you are, then.
Kelly I told her she could get stuffed.
Sorrel You did?
Kelly Well. I felt like saying it.
Pause.
Where’s your mum gone?
Sorrel To the shops. If they don’t refuse to serve her. She didn’t even bother to fight for that job, you know. She just gave up. Rolled over. They were supposed to be Christians. Religious. Pass me that paper, would you?
Kelly (as she does so) I’m going to miss you so much.
Sorrel Don’t keep on saying that, Kell. It doesn’t help. It really doesn’t. I’ll miss you.
Kelly Really?
Sorrel Yes, I said.
Kelly Really? Really? Really?
Sorrel (going off to the bedroom) Yes!
Sorrel goes off. As she does so the front doorbell rings.
(off) Answer that, would you?
Kelly answers the door nervously. It is Troy, a man in his thirties. He wears a thick overcoat and an old college scarf.
Troy (chirpily) Hello, darling. Is your mum at home?
Kelly Who?
Troy Your mum. Is she at home?
Kelly Who wants to know?
Troy I do.
Kelly Who are you?
Troy My name’s Troy. Troy Stephens. Can I see your mum? Is she in?
Kelly My mum’s –
Sorrel returns from the bedroom. She sees Troy.
Troy (seeing Sorrel) Ah! Hello there. Just enquiring if her mum’s at home.
Sorrel Oh, yes? And who are you?
Troy Troy Stephens. I’m from As It Is.
Sorrel As It Is?
Troy As in, Telling It As It Is.
Sorrel Yes?
Troy Magazine.
Sorrel Really?
Troy Haven’t you read it?
Sorrel No.
Troy It’s very, very popular.
Sorrel Is it? That’s probably why I haven’t read it. What did you want?
Troy I would appreciate a quick word, that’s all.
Sorrel With her mother?
Troy If it’s not too much trouble.
Sorrel OK. (Pause.) Fire ahead.
Troy How do you mean?
Sorrel I’m her mother. Fire ahead.
Kelly suppresses a giggle.
Troy What?
Sorrel I’m her mother. Carry on.
Troy You’re not her mother.
Sorrel Yes, I am.
Troy You can’t be.
Sorrel Why not?
Troy Well, you’re too young.
Sorrel Funny. Everyone says that.
Troy Come on. She’s not your daughter.
Sorrel Am I your mother, Doris?
Kelly Of course you are, Mum.
Sorrel There.
Troy Come on!
Kelly Why won’t he believe you, Mum?
Sorrel I don’t know, Doris, nobody does these days.
Kelly What a terrible world, Mum.
Sorrel You can say that again, Doris. (to Troy) Was there anything else you wanted, Mr –
Troy Now listen, I know you’re winding me up, I know you are. I just want to know if I can have a word with her mother.
Sorrel You’re having one now.
Troy Oh, leave it out. I’ll come back, I’ll come back, this is ridiculous – (He makes to leave.)
Sorrel Bye-bye! Nice to have met you. See the man out, Doris, will you? (Sorrel goes back into the bedroom.)
Troy Is she a lunatic or what? Has she escaped from somewhere?
Kelly Ssshh!
Troy What?
Kelly My mother had me when I was very, very young, you see.
Troy What?
Kelly As a consequence, she has this terrible disease.
Troy Disease.
Kelly It’s called youthanasia.
Troy Euthanasia. That’s killing people.
Kelly No, no, not euthanasia. Youth-anasia. Y–O–U–T–H.
Troy Get off.
Kelly She got stuck at the age of sixteen. She’s now forty-eight, actually.
Troy You could well be her daughter, you’re madder than she is. I’ll call back.
Kelly Do I get a free magazine?
Troy No, you bloody well don’t.
Kelly Thank you.
Troy (as he opens the front door) House full of batty kids …
He nearly walks into Lynette, who is returning with her shopping.
Oh. I’m so sorry, excuse me.
Lynette Who are you? What are you doing here?
Troy Ah. My name is Troy Stephens. Are you by any chance Mandy Saxon?
Lynette No.
Troy Mrs Lynette Saxon, I’m sorry. But formerly Mandy Saxon. I represent As It Is – the magazine which caters for the caring and the curious –
Lynette Jolly good. Nice to meet you. Now piss off.
Troy Oh, come on. Come on. Be fair.
Lynette Fair? Did you say fair?
Sorrel returns from the bedroom.
Troy Give me a chance, that’s all.
Lynette When were you lot ever fair to me? Eh?
Sorrel Take it easy, Mum.
Lynette Or to my daughter? Go on, get out. Just get out of here.
Troy I think if you’d only hear me out, you might –
Lynette (wheeling on Kelly) And your bloody mother’s just cut me dead on the stairs. Thank her so much from me, won’t you?
Kelly I’m sorry. She doesn’t mean to – She just …
Lynette Oh no, she means to, Kelly. When people do things, they generally mean them. It’s called being responsible for your actions. There’s no point in excusing them by saying they didn’t mean them when they clearly did.
Kelly (flustered) All I meant was –
Lynette I’m sure the Japanese didn’t mean to bomb Pearl Harbour, but they did.
Kelly (bewildered) What?
Lynette Lee Harvey Oswald never meant to shoot Kennedy, he just happened to pull the trigger –
Sorrel Mum –
Kelly What’s she talking about?
Lynette Hitler didn’t mean to invade Poland, did he?
Kelly Poland?
Sorrel (yelling) Mum! Will you just cool it!
Lynette stands breathless.
(more quietly) Stop taking it out on Kelly, will you?
Kelly (tearfully) Excuse me, please. I need to go home now.
She rushes out of the door, slamming it behind her. Troy watches all this open-mouthed.
Sorrel Honestly!
Lynette I’m going to unpack these. Will you get rid of this – (indicating Troy) – thing, please.
Lynette goes into the kitchen. She has a small coughing fit which prompts her to stop and light a cigarette. She starts to unpack the food.
Sorrel (to Troy) I think you’d better go. She doesn’t want to talk to you. Not at all.
Troy wavers uncertainly, then makes up his mind.
Troy (decisively) Allow me one minute. One minute. Will you? Please.
Before Sorrel can object he goes into the kitchen. Lynette ignores him.
Mrs Saxon, I know you don’t wish to talk to me, but I’d be so incredibly grateful if you would listen to me for just one minute. That’s all I’m asking. One minute.
Silence.
Please.
Lynette I should probably phone the police and get them to throw you out of here but, knowing their opinion of me, it would probably take them a week to get here. One minute, then.
Troy My name is Troy Stephens. I am from As It Is magazine. We specialise in highlighting issues, sometimes social, sometimes personal, which we feel would be of interest to and engage the concern of our readers.
Lynette A gossip mag, you mean.
Troy No, no. Upmarket from that.
Lynette Heavens, a gossip mag with no pictures.
Troy I think there’s a story here, which if highlighted properly would be of serious concern. Not to put too fine a point on it, here is
yourself, who in order to keep her single parent family together was reduced to selling her body. Supplementing that with occasional office-cleaning. A woman who less than ten weeks earlier, had control of a multi-million pound internet business –
Lynette Hardly …
Troy – a successful marriage, a beautiful home, a thriving business partnership, a highly promising, academically brilliant daughter –
Sorrel Oh, is that what I am?
Troy – and all of that wiped out overnight. What does that say about us? What does that say about the world we’re living in? Don’t you find that the tiniest bit frightening?
Lynette Yes, I find it terrifying. But then it’s us you happen to be talking about.
Troy No, I think it’s all of us. When you see how thin the crust is on which we’re walking …
Lynette And you want to put all this in your magazine?
Troy We’d like to serialise.
Lynette My life of shame by ex-millionaire call girl.
Troy We don’t write like that. Listen. If it’s the publicity you dislike – well, you’re saying it yourself – you’ve already got that. At least whatever you say for us, we’d get it right.
Lynette Any guarantee of that?
Troy Every guarantee. We’d pay well.
Lynette Ah ha! Here it comes. I tell you now, you could never in a million years afford my price. We ex-whores don’t come cheap.
Troy I would hope not. (looking round, cautiously) Is this the sort of thing you had in mind?
He produces a pen and notepad and scrawls a figure on the top sheet. He shows it to Lynette obviously expecting her to be impressed.
Yes?
Lynette (studying this, deadpan) Uh-huh. How about –?
She takes the pen from his hand and makes a simple annotation. She hands the pad back.
That’s the sort of thing I had in mind.
Troy (looking at what she’s added) Jesus!
Lynette Take it or leave it.
Troy We’ve never paid that.
Lynette If you want me to sell you my soul, I will only do it for the price of my daughter’s future. Otherwise why should I bother?
Damsels in Distress Page 7
